PS 3525 
1.116 N3 
1 1904 

Copy 1 




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(Uaftt>e (ftazeau 



A Memory of 
New Providence Island 




Written and illustrated by 
Julia Warner Michael 




■f.j.3. f^fo 4 



Most lovingly 1 dedicate this pen memory of' Nassau 
to the dear friends who made my stay in their far 
off Island homes a mast happy and appreciativt 
recollection. 




Copyrighted 1904 
By Julia Warner Michael 

Arranged and printed by Hal Marchbanks's Print Shop 
on the tow path at Lockport.'New York 




'(Ttoegau." 




WAY in the midst of" the emeraid sea, 
Soft kissed by the breath from the bluett or 

skies, 
Apart from the world like a beautiful dream, 
Bahamian Summerland lang'rously lie*. 



All day 'the bright sunlight ot shimmering gold 
It hanging on orange trees balls of its fire; 
All night the white moonlight, with silvering brush, 
Is painting this city of wondrous desire. 

The palms are her spires that go searching the sky, 
The lapping of waves is the sound of her mart. 
The bursting of roses the sign of her life, 
The fluttering sails the pulse of her heart. 

Each day the queer shuffle of soft, slippered tread 
Goes up and goes down her white streets by the sea, 
While musical voices are vending their wares 
Of "groun'nuts" and "dillies a threpence for three." 

All day her white boats, like the gleaming sea gulls. 
Go silently skimming the breast of the bay 
Which mothers the coral of crimson and white, 
The purple and yellow sea-ferns, where they play. 

Her caskets of treasures, which cradle her wealth, 
Are borne on the tips of her tropical trees, 
While coffers that burst with the bulk they must hold 
Lie lapped in the sands of her wavering seas. 

She rests in a peace that has dropped from the stars, 
While mystical love is the nymph of her spell 
Where, dropped in the waves of the Summerland sea, 
She lies on their crests like a sun-tinted shell. 



'Cfack a Copper, QBO00.' 




OL ! may ride to the east or to the west 
To the part of the island you like best, 
But wherever vou go you're sure to 

hear 
This refrain of the darkies, tar and near: 



"Boss, Boss, chuck a copper, Boss ! 
Boss, let de pennv come; 
Got no ma an' got no pa, 
Poor orphan an' got no home, 
Boss, Boss, let de pennv come." 

You may ride with your sweetheart or ride alone 

By the old time forts or sad sea moan, 

But there'll come to your musings first or last 

These most pitiful pleadings shrill and fast: — Refrain 



In a "six-shilling hack" a little while 
Or the Governor's coach, for mile on mile, 
You may drive where you will, but never free 
From this characteristic simple plea: 



-Refrain 



They are big and are little, short and tall, 
With a sack or with nothing on at all; 
They are grinning or pouting, grave or gay, 
But they never forget this bit to say: - 

You may drive in the morning, noon or night; 
You may throw them your coppers left and right, 
But the same little words will reach you till 
You are sure that their crv is never Mill. 



-Refrain 



"Boss, Boss, chuck a copper, Boss ! 
Boss, let de penny come; 
Got no ma an' got no pa, 
Poor orphan an' got no home, 

Buss, Boss, let de penny come." 



'(& ©rtt'Ctn (TUeBdu." 






ORN1N', Boss. You want a car- 
riage ? 

Yas suh, show you all aroun'. 

Jes came in this mawnin' ? Wall 
I'll 

Take vou all aroun' dis town. 

Dis yeah street we' son is Bay street , 
Dat's de Sponge Exchange, — Yas suh, 
Busv mos' the time I'm spectin'. 
Dis yeah's steameli day, the stuh 
Do be somethin'. Yeah's some buildin's 
See, dat's wheah you gets youah pos', 
Dat's de bank, and dat's de buildin' 
Wheah de pahl'ment sits. But mos' 
Luok roun' at dat silk-cotten — 
Aint she vvhoppin' big old tree ; 
Yas suh, dey has pictures of" it 
'Roun' mos' am 1 wheah you see. 
Boss, you got a cigarette yeah ; 
Tanks, now I can talk a bit. 
Yeah's vvat's called de 'Queen's Staihcase' suh, 

(Jes a minute now its lit), 

Done in ole slabe time, dey tell me, 
Want to climb it ? Yas, I'll wait. 
Gollv, I been bohn to do it. 
Shuah, its gettin' kin' o' late. 
Well, yeah's Eastern Dribe. Dat islan' I 
Dat's Hog Island — No Boss, true 
I aint funnin', dat'i its name, suh. 
Dis yeah's Fort Montagu. 
Now I's gwine to take you into 
Grant's Town. Dat's a 'dillic' tree: 
Coc'nut, custard apple, sour-sop 
Dat las' one befo' vou see. 




?^K 



Yas, hybiscus mighty putu 
But dey only las' a day; 
Euch'ris lilly beat em holler 
Mos' de white folks gu'ine to sav. 
Wat' s dis place we jes now passin ? 
Dis is Gov'ment House an' groun', 
Dat's a statue o' Columbus. 
Now I specs we bes' turn down, 
Dis way shorely is de nearest, 
C'lonyal Hotel b'low dis hill. 
Yeah we ah, suh. Yas, good-day, Boss. 
"Say! you hoss, caint you stan' still." 




A negro, describing his friend's singing 
qualities, remarked; "He got a voice 1 i ke a 
horgan and a constitution like a concertina." 



'% QUeeau (glenu." 




OME soup that' s thick, some 
hominy, 
A heaping dish of peas and rice, 
A platter of the plantains, fried, 
With sweet potatoes always nice; 
Shell fish, all stuffed, and soft- 
shell crabs, 



And everthing with peppers spiced, 
(Both red and green ), from rice and fish 
To ripe tomatoes, freshly sliced; 
A little bit of good conch souse, 
A splendid cup of English tea, 
Then comes a taste of sour-sop ice 
With little cakes served daintily. 
A brimming glass of fresh limeade 
And then, if you'll not think it rash, 
The last concoction, which is called, 
A dainty dish of "heav'nly hash." 



"Don't make no promises you is gwine re- 
gret, 'cause too much promise like toy 
balloon — soon bust." 



'ZU&axUt Woman." 




HE sun lies white on the coral 

street 
And softly down by its gleaming 

walls 
There sounds the shuffle of darky 

tread, 



As slow and measured its cadence falls. 
The long, full body sways back and forth, 
The arms like pendulums gently swing; 
The turbaned head, with its wide, flat tray, 
Is straight to poise the incessant fling. 

A waist and skirt that are snowy whiter, 
A face of ebony's polished hue 
With gleam of mother-of-pearl, inlaid. 
Where pinkish lips part, smiling at you; 
The turban, crimson, yellow, and brown, 
That's topped with burden of luscious gold, 
Or turkey's plumage of blue and green . 
That mists the light in its feathered hold. 



The sun lies bar M ibf.^r?™ walls, 
Tk amtffle dies in the old Bay street 
As, swinging under the palms, she goes, 
The market woman with slippered feet. 
The picture lingers when she is gone, 
For every dream in a future time 
Of Nassau streets by the sapphire bay. 
Will bear this bit of the sunnv clime. 




"(Dufwdrb QSounb". 

Between the sunset and the shade, 
Where the twilight star ?s found, 

The gleaming world in stillness laid 

Begins to soften and to fade 

When the ships are outward hound. 

The vesper bell peals sweet and low 
To the world its peaceful sound; 

Its silver chiming, dying slow, 

Slips out into the afterglow 

When the ships are outward bound. 

The crimson sea lies far and still 

With a band of flame girt round, 
While dark and tall upon a hill 
The palm trees bend their stately will 
When the ships are outward bound. 

The angel of the night afar, 

In a cloudy raiment gowned, 
Shall guide them out across the bar 
And light their way from star to star 
When the ships are outward bound. 

So may a calm lie on the sea, 
The tempest's tossing drowned, 

When just at evening, silently, 

Into the vast eternity 

Our ship is outward bound. 




?W£ 





'Wen it £ift>er &4nfern'« &i$fe*. " 

HEN de silver lantern's lighted 
Outside ma cabin door 
An' de dreamy, sleepy shadders 
Creep in across de floor, 
I jes take ma picanniny 

An' hoi' him to ma breas'. 
While I listen to de crickets 
As dey sing ma babe to res'. 

So hush-a-by, yo' mammy's chile, 

Cause de sun am sinkin' slow; 
De little clouds done gone to sleep 

While de wind am snorin' low, 
An' shiny stars am peepin' down 

Till dey lighten up de way 
For wrinkly dreams de white moon-beams 

Am a droppin' where yo' lay. 

Den I dream about salvation 

An' see de Glory Shore 
Where de worriments an' troubles 

Ain' gwine to come no more, 
An' I knows ma little black man 

Is gwine to lead me dere 
Cause he looks jes like an angel 

As 1 rock him in ma chair. 

Yo' eyes can shut dere kivers down 

Cause de stars am come to glowj 
Yo' head can res' on mammy's brea&* 

While I hush yo' to and fro;. 
De dishes on de table, 

An yo' marbles on de floor; 
De sleepy time am creepin' 

Right in through de open door. 




So it'jes de dear good Masser 

Knows how I lub nu chile 
He will let me in de Kingdom 

For jes a little while, 
Cause ma soul's mos' runnin' ober 

Wid glory full an' free 
When de silver lantern's shinin' 

On little man an' me. 



Dere, hush ma picanniin chile 

Cause de night am gone to res' , 
An' turn vo' head a little more 

Till its closer to ma breas' . 
So hush ma honey, go to sleep 

By de open cabin door 
Fur mammy's gwine to hoi' yo' tight 

Till J.- dai light come once inure. 




Speaking of cuteness the darky will say: 
"When cockroach give dance he no invite 
fowl." "When cockroach go to walk h e n o 
pass fowl-yard." 

When some little twins were christened the 
father, upon being asked their names, re- 
plied, "Cherubim an' Seraphim, 'cause in de 
Good Book it says, 'dey continually do crv' 
and dat seems to be de case wid dese twins." 

"When Fowl drink water him lift up him 
head and say, 'Tank God, tank God'.but 
man, him don't say not'ing." 

"Time is longer than rope." 

"Lasses catch more fly dan vinegar." 

"Shut mouth catch no fly." 

"Mosquito don't know trouble till he get 
in smoke." 

"Dog got four feet but he can't walk in two 
roads." 

"Loose goat don't know how tied goat feel." 

"Empty bag can't stan' up." 

"Slack rope neber pop." 

"Yer neber hear tree crack till wind blow." 

"Good sense beat obeah (superstition)." 

"Chile talk too much, tell his Pa's debt." 



